


Resurrected

by Laugh_at_the_girl_who_loves_too_easily



Series: Rebirth [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Cutting, First Time, M/M, Magic, Rough Sex, Strangulation, Suicide Attempt, Wall Sex, dark!stiles, mentions of Allison Argent/Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-17
Updated: 2013-07-17
Packaged: 2017-12-20 12:51:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/887472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laugh_at_the_girl_who_loves_too_easily/pseuds/Laugh_at_the_girl_who_loves_too_easily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt (By imwaitingforyoudoctor from tumblr)Dark!Stiles, He feels abandoned Peter offers to teach him about mythology and magic.<br/>Beta-ed by @weardodo</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resurrected

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy it. Will be a second part if taken well enough. Please feel free to tell me what you think  
> All mistakes are mine

 “I didn’t mean to hurt anybody; I’m losing myself as I try to compete with everyone else”

Happiness seems to be an ongoing battle and he wonders if it’s even worth fighting for.

He doesn’t understand. He probably never will. And he never really tries to.

Maybe it would help if he had all of the facts so that he could understand things better, but even if he knew he wouldn’t get it. He would just think Stiles was crazy.  His dad had other troubles to worry about.  He was trying to protect a town from an unknown enemy. And Stiles wishes so much that he could tell him what he was fighting, but then he would be more susceptible to being hurt.

He couldn’t lose his dad, he couldn’t lose another parent. Not both of them.

He wishes everything could be normal, that he could actually wake up in the morning and that he could actually go to sleep at a natural time. That existing wasn’t as hard as it felt. 

Stiles was an expert at hiding it, it seemed. Hiding things with humour was his thing. Saving people, sarcasm, the family business. Scott was his best friend and he hadn’t noticed his downfall, even with his upper hand with the werewolf senses. He didn’t blame him for not noticing, in the beginning he did. He used to curl up in a ball on his bathroom floor, tears streaming down his face as he screamed mostly about how no one noticed. But he was drowning. His head was exploding and everything was just becoming too much. Everything was just getting incredibly dark incredibly fast.  But now, especially after what happened at the motel, he didn’t blame him for not knowing, it was only when he was alone that he let his defences down.

His dreams were plagued with paralysis. His legs ,even though they were attached to his body, would not move and each time it was a different variation of people he had to watch die. The worst had to be his dad, watching his father’s throat get slit by a silhouette of the wolf. In one variation the wolf was Scott and he couldn’t do anything to stop him. Nothing. He is having a nervous breakdown and he has nowhere to turn.

It's easy to be surrounded by a sea of people, and still feel like you're the only person in the universe. Being lonely can be as simple as being trapped in your own mind with no way out and no way to let anyone in.

He wants out of this mess. He wants out. No one will ever love him; he will live and die alone. He will go nowhere fast. He saved Scott but he couldn’t save himself.

That’s why he is curled up in the foetal position ,his tears hitting the tiled floor of the bathroom; his blood was bubbling out of the hundreds of cuts he had carved into his wrists.  Silence. Darkness.

It was nearly over. It wasn’t going to hurt anymore.

“Stay with me Stiles.” A familiar voice screamed as he was bundled into their arms, but the darkness took over and the pain was fading.

.....

It's fair to say he was not used to waking up in such an uncomfortable position. There was a damp chill to the air, an uncomfortable atmosphere that made him feel sick. He had something sticking out of his wrist.

He woke up in a hospital room, slightly nauseous and dizzy, probably half sedated.  He couldn’t hold his head up, it kept spinning and felt heavier than his whole body.  But he tried. His eyes darted around the room, taking in every detail. His wrists were bandaged and he had his own private room. He just sat there for a minute of two listening to the IV. Who he saw next he never expected to see. He expected his father or Scott, not Peter Hale. Never Peter.  Fuck.

“Ah you are awake. Welcome back to the land of the living” His voice was uncharacteristically soft like velvet and concerned. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Why the fuck were you in my house?”Stiles slurred gripping the bed sheets tightly “and why are you allowed in here?”

“I saved your life that is why you are being sour, but I do actually care about you Stiles. Sure you can be irritating but you are defiantly less irritating than any other teenager. Take Jackson for example or Cora”  Bullshit. Stiles scowled at him before he stared at his feet.

Stiles noticed a neatly folded pile of clothes at the foot of the bed that were his.

“They are for you to change into ,we are going on a walk”

“Why?” Stiles pondered and his face scrunched up.

“Because you need to” Peter ordered.

.....

“Why did you sneak me out?”

“I didn’t, Mrs. McCall reluctantly let me take you out...she hates me. Which I get, but she trusts I won’t hurt you because I practically saved you. She also wants the delay telling your father. Stiles you were an inch away from no return.” So close. So fucking close.

Peter has a Bugatti Veyron Linea Vincero (What a mouthful!) which costs about  $1million, honestly it doesn’t surprise him that much considering Derek’s car cost half that amount.  He probably got it from insurance and lord knows if he has a job. He could be a model easily because any one that had eyes could see he was smoking. Damn it, wrong train of thought.

“We have reached our destination” Peter said in a SAT Nav type of voice as he put the car in park.

The cemetery.

He ended up sitting in front of his mother’s grave with Peter standing behind him.

“Stiles you have so much ahead of you and I can help you...want to help you. You have so much potential”

“You are trying to save me but it’s just too late. It just hurts too much. I don’t want to fight anymore and if I go back I have to. And you spend so long fighting for something that you think that things will eventually get better, but they never do .And I’m just... I’m so tired.”

“You are not alone Stiles and I am not leaving you”

He was being concerned and it felt nice but was it enough? To get worry from a psychopath?

But he didn’t leave Stiles at his mother’s grave for hours with Peter just standing idly behind him the whole time. Stiles ended up falling asleep at the grave and woke up in the hospital with Peter still with him.

Peter left him alone for a few days leaving him to stew in his own misery, questioning how Peter could help him? It was hard to try and hide the bandages that went all the way up his arms. When they finally let him out of the hospital convinced (wrongly) that he wasn’t suicidal, his father drove him home in the cruiser, and he couldn’t look him in the eyes.  Stiles had begged Melissa not to tell his dad but she had to, it was procedure, and in the end he had to convince her not to tell Scott. Guilt was consuming both of them. This was when the coddling began. No sharp things were in his reach, all padlocked. He wouldn’t let Stiles be alone, the door to his room could never be closed and neither could the bathroom. And that was embarrassing. It was only the two of them and they were both men , but nothing is more awkward than being able to see your dads silhouette walk past the bathroom door as you try to jerk off in the one place that has slight privacy.  But he understood. That doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt though , that his father no longer looked at him like he was Stiles.He looked at him like he didn’t know the stranger in front of him.  Stiles didn’t even know himself.

It was a week after the incident when Stiles went back to school. Noone had seen him. They had attempted but he didn’t want to see anyone and his dad made no excuses for him. So walking into school by himself nearly caused him a panic attack as many eyes looked at him when he walked to his locker. Only two thoughts ran through his mind. Do they know? If not, why are they staring? He took deep breaths into his locker as he grounded himself before he collected his books. Which was then ruined by a bang on the side of his locker.

“Dude where have you been?” Scott bellowed as he wrapped his arms around him in a bear hug. Or a wolf hug.

“Hey buddy, how you been? I’ve been ill” Stiles laughed fakely.

“Mom said you had been in hospital but she couldn’t tell me the details, you sure you are okay? By the bye me and Allison are officially back together and Isaac’s acting weird about it.” One track mind Scott.

“I’m so happy for you buddy. I’ll try talking to Isaac” Stiles bubbled happily as they walked to their lesson.

And no one sensed a thing the whole day. Stiles thought at one point Isaac noticed the bandages when his sleeve accidently rolled up in science, but he never said anything about it.  When he got in his jeep he got the scare of his life. He ended up whacking his head on the roof of his car.

“Peter what the fuck are you doing in my jeep?”Startled he nearly jumped back out ,but the door was already closed. Peter laughed .He had one of those coy laughs, teasing and promising all at the same time.

“Support, I’m guessing you had a tough day, plus I want to show you something. Drive to the Hale house” 

And Stiles did because he had nothing better to do, he needed the distraction since his dad had gone back to work and he just couldn’t stand to be alone.

So he stood in the burnt out shell of the Hale house, ash creeping into his nose and he watched Peter climb up the crumbling stairs. When he was searching in one of the rooms he shouted down.

“Did you know there is a fourth dimension to history? A dimension discounted by scholars, but one that is very real. The unexplained. The esoteric. Some might call it the occult, but that term has been grossly misused.”

Stiles shook his head. He knew of magic because of Deaton but he didn’t really understand it. 

“Stiles you feel lost and useless, so I had an idea that would make you feel more empowered.” Peter announced as he jump down from the top of the stairs with a huge book in his hands.  “This, is for you”

“Wow thanks Peter, I always wanted a really heavy book I could kill spiders with.” Stiles snarked.

“Wrong. This is full of information on the occult, if you want to learn. This is your opportunity. There are many things in here that will help you with Werewolves” Stiles scowled at Peter confused at why he was giving him something that could be his weakness.  “Try this. It’s easy, the first thing I learnt” He flipped the book to a certain page which he has memorised and then gave it to Stiles to read.  His eyes flicked over it before he attempted the instructions.

Ground yourself. Breathe deeply. And believe as you think about a flower sprouting. 

What he never expected was for a rose to flower out of his veins from his wrist. He ended up falling onto his ass and the flower was gone.

“What.The .Fuck.”Stiles whimpered as he rubbed his wrist where the bandages had risen.

“That’s what your blood can do. Your spark.” Peter smirked. “And you can do so, so much more. I want to guide you through it” He never once thought Peter was interested in the occult. It made sense as **he** did get Lydia to resurrect him.  But Peter wanted to help. And in this moment that was enough.

It was stupid; he wasn’t going to regret it. What was the point in regret?

He grabbed the hand that was stretched out in front of him offering to help him up.  Before he could think again he entangled his hands in Peter’s slicked back hair and crushed their mouths together.  He didn’t love him or remotely feel close to it, he just... Peter was the only person he could turn to right now and well ,his head was not in the right place. Not that Peter cared.  Magic was a slight aphrodisiac.

Peter grasped Stiles’ hips with his clawed hands before he wrapped Stiles’ legs around his own waist and backed him up against the cracking and crumbling burnt wall by the stairs. Their mouths not leaving one another.  Stiles rubbed up against him, grinding his hips as their tongues fought for dominance.  Peter wasn’t the type to not ask for permission when it came to sexual acts. He took Stiles inexperience but eagerness as a yes. It was destructive, Stiles knew that but he didn’t care.

“Fuck me, Peter” He whimpered as his hips bucked against the older man.  Gladly. Peter clawed Stiles shirt into three pieces, tearing the pieces off his flesh and discarding them somewhere on the ground.  Stiles hands trembled in anticipation as he messed with Peter’s belt, struggling. The older man lifted his shirt over his head and threw it to the floor before he helped Stiles with the belt. He dropped Stiles’ legs for a brief moment. Slipping his underwear and jeans down in one go ,stepping out of them and kicking them away. Peter pulled Stiles’ jeans and underwear down with werewolf speed before he wrapped the boys’ long legs around his waist again. 

“Are you sure about this? Because I won’t be able to stop and I am not responsible if you get hurt” Peter panted as he pressed his erection against Stiles’ entrance. The boy moaned. Of course he wanted this ,who wouldn’t want to be fucked by a freaking Hale? They all have the bloody gorgeous gene.  He nodded furiously as he smashed their lips together in another bruising kiss, their lips already red from how hard they had been kissing.  Peter slowly pushed himself into Stiles’ unprepared entrance the only lube being Peter’s pre-come. He would probably tear but as Peter said that was not his problem after Stiles agreed. The boy bit Peter’s tongue as hard as he could when Peter entered him. Copper taste filled both their mouths as Peter rocked slowly inside him. The pain was unbearable. But the boy was on a destructive path.  Only the pain simmered away when Peter hit his prostate, the younger boy mewled against him as Peter traced a line of saliva up his jugular before leaving many love bites in visible places.  He decided to penetrate faster and pin Stiles ‘hands above his head yet not before he had brought Stiles left wrist to his mouth ripping the bandages off and his fangs broke the skin as he sucked the blood ,marking what was his. He ran his tongue over the freshly made cuts Stiles had done to himself. The noises Stiles was making alone could have gotten Peter off. And that mouth. The things he had thought about doing to it.  And the smell. Delicious is an understatement.  

His movement became shallow and faster as he was nearing his orgasm.  Stiles hands were gripping his shoulders tightly as his mouth formed an ‘O’ shape and he came over his stomach and Peter’s with Peter’s name staining his lips. Not long after Peter bit into Stiles shoulder with his fangs as he came inside Stiles, attempting not to moan the boy’s name.

For a mistake, it was the best mistake Stiles had ever made.  

He had to admit though it was weird having sex with a guy where that guy’s family had died.

 

The looks he got from his friends the next day, he couldn’t care less about. The only reason they knew he was no longer a virgin was due to their keen sense of smell and maybe the love bite trail on his neck. They didn’t know who and they won’t. Even if they do carry on asking.  

“Stiles . Stiles, I’m your best friend tell me who” Scott begged like a five year old wanting ice cream.  He was an idiot sometimes but damn was he adorable.

“You don’t know her” Stiles lied through his teeth.  “It was great .The end.” Scott pouted at him but went back to eating his lunch. Stiles abruptly announced he was going to the vending machine before he stood up and left.  He pressed in the numbers to get some ‘peanut butter cups’ as he turned around he got the scare of his life because Isaac was behind him.

“Whoa! Hey, little wolf...how are you; Scott said you’ve been acting weird?” No one else was in the corridor, strangely. 

“You were with Peter weren’t you? Derek and him got in a fight, I only heard some things before I left.  But before that why did you hurt yourself? From being beaten I have became more adept with noticing bruises and cuts.” Wow, Isaac great detective work. “If you answer truthfully, and I will know if you are lying, then I will tell you what’s wrong with me”

With a huge deep sigh Stiles answered.

“Yes I was. Don’t judge just.... please. Look Isaac the reason I hurt myself you wouldn’t understand, not anymore.”

“So connect with the side that would, the boy who was beaten by his father, lost his mother and brother. Who couldn’t heal, that side, my human side” Isaac pleaded with his puppy dog eyes and innocent face.

“I’m weak, I’m just a useless human who can’t protect anyone and I’ve had enough of seeing people die around me and being able to do nothing to help” Isaac pulled him into a tight hug resting his head on Stiles’ shoulder.

“I’m in love with Scott” Isaac admitted by whispering into Stiles’ ear. Huh, not really that surprising.  Poor baby wolf.

 

.....

He sat in the boys changing room on the floor, leaning against the concrete wall his knees to his chest fantasizing about going back to the person he had always been. And he can't believe ,looking at himself in the mirror seeing what to all eyes must appear to be a young and healthy sixteen year old with flustered skin and visible biceps. But surely this is too many pills for someone to take? Adderall, two types of depression pills and something for the headaches.

 

For three weeks straight he arrived at school at least two hours late. In which his dad had to come in and explain to his teachers what he had tried to do. The shock on their faces was incredible; they believed him to be a chirpy sarcastic kid who was a pain in the ass ,not suicidal. They began treating him like he was made of glass, bar Harris, and it sucked.

His truancy was starting to show. His grades fell below B's. He used to practically flagellate himself for getting anything below an A, an A was a cause of alarm and now he simply doesn't care at all. Teachers offered their time saying things like; if you ever want to talk I’m here for you. They told him that they knew he could do better than this.

It all seems pointless in light of the fact that we're all going to die eventually. So he was trying his hardest to become stronger so he didn't die tomorrow.

One morning you wake up afraid you are going to live. In Stiles case, he was not frightened in the least bit at the thought that he might live because he was certain, quite certain, that he was already dead.

But he wondered to his Literature lesson already twenty minutes late. Apparently Jennifer, sorry ‘Ms Blake’, was taking over for the teacher who was out sick. He ignored the stares from his classmates as he plonked himself next to Scott.

“So you look better . . . except for your eyes. Sometimes you get this look in your eyes, and I worry about you every time I see it. You look like someone who's caught on something and can't get loose.” Scott murmured trying not to get caught. Stiles just shrugged. This wasn’t like him.

“I know what’s wrong with Isaac...just be careful what you say about Allison around him, actually try not to talk about her or be around her with him at all”

“Does he like her?” Scott shriek turned into a growl.

“No you dipshit, he likes you!” That wasn’t meant to come out. Crap. Scott’s eyes were as wide as saucers and he could feel Isaacs’s eyes staring evils into the back of his head.

“Just don’t hurt him Scott, He’s had enough pain for a lifetime” Stiles begged. Scott nodded in confusion still trying to wrap his head around the concept.

.......

“The dark arts have been given a bad reputation mostly because of its name, people think ‘dark’ means evil and unholy but that is a big misconception, it relies primarily on the powers of the moon, stars and the entities of the night such as passion, dreams and wind. “ Peter explained as Stiles practiced some simple magic.

“So it has to be done at night time?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions Stiles when you know the answer to them” Peter snarled. He was right, he did know the answer, and he did know that dark magic could be done at any point.  “Now we have been practicing for over three weeks, I think we are ready for you to test it on a pers-“ He stopped abruptly , his ears noticeably twitching.

Peter heard something and his head twitched distracting Stiles from the magic and causing the ice ball to dissipate.

 

“Run. Stiles.” He growled as he shifted. But it was too late. Bullets were flying and they were pinned down. Peter was protecting Stiles attacking the hunters and avoiding them by jumping in and out of the house, until one of the bullets shot him in his abdomen and he collapsed onto the floor. The tone of his voice set him into a panic. In all the time he’d known him, he’d never heard him scream with that sort of urgency, never heard his voice filled with fear. He could hardly breathe as he ran up the old staircase, yanking the banister which collapsed when he touched it, took the steps three at a time (even if they creaked scarily). He raced down the hall, hearing a sound like muffled cries.

 Stiles inspected the wound but Peter was convulsing, there was an electric shock in the bullet. What the fuck? Stiles took a deep breath before he tried his hardest to concentrate in the situation. And he levitated the bullet out of Peter’s body. He would have pulled it out with his hands but the shock may have killed him he didn’t know the strength.

He had had enough of being weak. Having to be protected. He was strong, he didn’t need other people.

So he stood up leaving Peter leaning against the wall as he took the electric bullet and levitated it/threw it at one of the hunters piercing right between his eyes and coming out the other side of his head. The boy smirked as the rest of the hunters look shocked and worried. But not for long. They began shooting again this time more furiously.

Stiles remembered one of the things Peter said about draining a life force, which Stiles thought was bullshit. However, desperate times call for desperate measures.

 _‘Feel out with your mind for the beings life force and simply pull it away from them._ _  
The important thing to do is act as a conduit for the life force to pass away from the being and 'free' it from its binding to them.’_ So he did aiming it at the closest hunter who seemed to be grasping her throat and gasping for air.

Whilst he was doing that spell though he never thought about how someone could sneak up on him. Someone did. And he felt  a gun barrel against the back of his head before he backed off a little bit.

“You think you’re special because you’ve got some weird magical fairy powers?” The hunter chuckled as Stiles turned around to face him , the gun point about a foot away now.

“You know what? Pull the frigging trigger” And he did. Yet Stiles stopped the bullet with his mind, the hunter believed Stiles would do what he did to the first hunter but he didn’t, the bullet still floating .He then imagined a ball of magic in his hand before he touched the guy’s shoulder. The hunter just dropped to the ground, no pulse, no heartbeat, no life.

There was just one hunter left.  Suddenly the ground under the hunter collapsed slightly, rocks falling into a deep hole that appeared as roots of trees and plants came up in one motion capturing him in place holding him above the black pit. He squirmed and begged like prey would.  

“Why are you here? Don’t you hunters have a code?”  Stiles snapped as he clenched his hands and the roots tightened making the man scream out in pain, blood bubbling out of his skin.

“Gerard Argent, we were trained by him ,worked with Kate and he mentioned about the zombie ex-alpha who killed his daughter, roaming around his old house.” He whimpered. “Now please let me go, stop this, I haven’t done anything wrong”

Stiles full out laughed at the hunter. 

“Haven’t done anything wrong? First. I’m sure the Hales begged and pleaded as you burnt them alive. And second. You need to reconsider your word choice” Stiles growled as he allowed the man to understand what he said wrong , only when the realisation showed on his face did Stiles unclench his fists and let the hunter fall into the endless pit, the roots going back into the ground as the mud resurfaced itself.

He had never felt so powerful.  

He rushed over to Peter framing his face with his hands.

“Hey, Creeper, you still with me?” He whispered shaking Peter a little. “Come on, I hate you. I’m terrified of you.”

“Don’t leave me.” Stiles cried tears running down his face. “Cause I love when you kiss me, I’m in pieces and you are fixing me, completing me” A smirk appeared on Peter’s face before he pulled Stiles down into a kiss.

“I knew you could do it” He murmured against Stiles’ mouth.  Stiles chuckled.

One thing neither of them noticed was that they had an audience. Throughout all of it. Scott had followed him because of Stiles saying he was busy and Scott not knowing why he was going.  And his jaw was defiantly touching the ground, he would have stopped Stiles from killing all of those guys but he was honestly scared of him. The whole time Stiles had a stoic face whilst he killed them it was when he came to the last one that he laughed. This wasn’t Stiles. Stiles wouldn’t kill... would he?  And the kiss with Peter, well Scott did not see that coming.

“Dude, we should get you to Deaton.”  Peter nodded as his arm was placed around Stiles’ shoulder so he could drag him to his jeep.                                         

......

After they returned from Deaton’s, Stiles was laying on his bed with his eyes closed before Peter crawled on top of him and started to French kiss him causing Stiles to moan into his mouth. 

“What is this?” Stiles questioned as they both gasped for air. He wasn’t normally the type to ask this but he had to know.

“Don’t you get it; you’re just a toy, a toy I play with.” Peter laughed, above Stiles on the bed. Yet in the next moment Peter was on the floor curled up in a ball in pain, groaning. What had Stiles done to him? He felt like his insides were combusting.

“Do you honestly think I won’t hesitant to kill you? I’ve done it once before. And this time it will be much easier thanks to you. You taught me this.” Stiles snarked as his hand glowed a yellow orangish colour. He would miss the intense sex they had over the past few weeks. Dizzyingly intense. They’d make love for hours, stopping only to catch their breath before beginning again. Lust sank deep. He wanted to tangle his fingers in the haircurling sweetly at his nape. He wanted to rise up on tip-toe and feather his lips across his, teasing and tempting him to take what he feared to give. He didn’t want to admit it but somewhere burning in the bottom of his stomach he may have love for Peter.

“God, You are exactly what I knew you could be” Peter chuckled as he grabbed Stiles’ face pulling him into a painful kiss before pushing him onto the bed. Throwing off both their t-shirts and jeans as they gyrated against each other trying to get more friction in their lower regions.  One of Stiles’ hands fisted Peter’s hair pulling him in more. That was enough for Peter to tear off both of their underwear and line himself up with Stiles’ entrance. Not a moment later, he's penetrating him, the movement harsh, but still filled with so much love. He thrusts into him fast and hard, each movement jerking his entire body. His angle changes and he hits Stiles’ prostate full-on, slamming into it almost brutally. He damn near screams but Peter chokes him cutting the scream off halfway through. His eyes roll back in his head as he struggles for each and every breath.

He's ramming into Stiles faster and harder with every passing second. The soft sounds coming from him tell Stiles he's already close. His length pulses with need and the instant his fingers close around him, jerking him off, Stiles falls over the edge, his mouth opening in what would have been a scream if he had enough oxygen. His fingers milk Stiles as he slams into his body over and over, purposely still rubbing against his prostate with every thrust. Slick fingers slide up over his neck to his chest, freeing him to breathe just before he lets out a moan and shudders over Stiles, his cum spilling inside him. Pulse after pulse fills Stiles until he's spent and shaking with the effort of not falling over on Stiles.

He reaches for him, tugging him down without a single care that he's heavier than he is. They lay there, their heartbeats coming down and their minds slowly clearing. A smile curves his lips as Stiles strokes Peter’s hair. He smirks against his neck; he can feel the curve of his lips just before he speaks. “Love you”

.........

 

“Stiles, I’ve tried all night to not ask you about your neck, and yes I saw it even though you tried to cover it up, and that is your business but dude your neck is bruises like really badly!” Scott argued.

“You’re right Scott it isn’t any of your business” Stiles spat.

“Just be careful.” Scott whimpered as Stiles left his house after they had played Halo together with Isaac for four hours. (Which wasn’t awkward at all because Scott and Allison and Isaac were discussing the matter of a threesome soon!)

That startled him. The combination of loneliness and depression had made him feel as if he had been living in a dream for the last few days, but that got through. Stiles smiled at his best friend as he got in his jeep and drove to the Beacon Hills forest. He climbed out leaves crumbling as he stepped on them. And then he lost it, leaning against the side of the Jeep with the heels of his hands pressed against his temples, howling until tears rolled down his cheeks. This wasn’t him. He wasn’t a killer. Was he?

 

 


End file.
